Political Affairs
by iviscrit
Summary: Kuvira wants to run a test on the new armor. How? By dancing in the rain with her fiancé. Cliche and a half for oddania.


_in which my bbs fulfill the cliché of dancing in the rain_

Kuvira glanced outside. "Are we ready to run the test, Mr. President?"

"_Vice_ president, commander." Baatar looked up from the lab bench, pulling off his goggles and pushing his glasses up on his nose. "Which one? Artillery, or-"

"Waterproof," she said, hopping down from her seat on the counter. "It's raining," she added, pointing to the window. "And 'Mr. President' still works on a technicality, you know... my political title is 'Madame President' after all."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But we're not married yet. How badly do you want to run it right now? I can call Lee and have him get started, maybe one of the privates can set up a little umbrella for us to stand under.."

"No," she said, metalbending the new armor onto her body and putting on the helmet, "that's not necessary. Let's go."

Baatar stood, a bemused smile at the corners of his mouth. "Kuvira..."

"I've been away for weeks, dealing with the roving bandits in Juroo," she said, tugging him along, weaving past the surprised generals they encountered en route to an exit. "I'd like a little time alone with you, to catch up."

"You have a funny way of showing it," Baatar said petulantly. "You never answered my telegrams. Besides, I'm tired. Can't we relax instead of test the armor? I can have some tea sent to my room."

"Hush."

"You're just in a good mood because the new armor is ready," he said, shaking his head. "Kuvira..."

"Not now," she said, holding up a hand and turning when he collided with her at their abrupt stop. She lifted the mouthpiece for the intercom. "Stop the train," she ordered.

"Yes, commander."

The magna-train slowed and came to a halt, and Baatar crossed his arms over his chest. "Can I at least grab a rain jacket? We don't know if the armor's waterproof yet, that's why we're testing it... and either way, I'm not the one wearing it." He was unable to keep a smile off his face when she pursed her lips and tapped his nose in response.

"No," she said. "This isn't just an armor functionality test. No more questions, walk with me."

"Yes, commander," he said, his voice mocking.

She frowned and stopped, holding him by the shoulders. "We're equals, Baatar. I don't command you any more than you command me."

He chuckled, pulling her in for a hug. "If you say so... I'll remember that the next time my arms are pinned to the-"

"Not here," she said, hiding her face in his chest as the chief of staff walked by, and staying there until her cheeks returned to their usual color.

When Kuvira had first noticed the rain outside the window of Baatar's lab it had been falling lightly in little more than a drizzling mist. Now, the drops were coming down fast, striking the earth surrounding the tracks hard enough to leave little indentations in the red clay. They struck the roof and sides of the magna-train with little metallic pings, generating a symphony of steely percussion to a lighthearted rhythm. Kuvira and Baatar paused just inside the train, safe from the downpour as the doors slid open. She took his arm. "Let's see how well you did."

He winced. "Don't get excited, this is the first test... there're bound to be a few minor malfunctions."

"Nonsense." Suddenly, she had pulled him out from the safety of the train doorway and into the rain, landing in a puddle with such a splash that he was drenched to his knees and she to her thighs. "Is it working?" she asked, sliding up the visor of the helmet. "Well?"

"Um..." Baatar took off his glasses, growling in frustration as he wiped them to no avail. "I can't tell, Kuvira," he said irritably. "You know the rain makes this difficult for me."

"Sorry," Kuvira said, taking his arm again and bringing his free hand to rest atop her engagement ring before removing the wet glasses from his face. "Why don't you go by feel?"

She smiled as he obeyed, bringing his hand first to her cheek and then to the side of the helmet. "Where's the face panel?"

"I took it off," she replied. "It seems to be working though.. you figured out how to use the polymer coating... er, resin... anyway, you made it work?"

"Apparently." He ran his fingers along the helmet, and Kuvira closed her eyes as she felt the plates of metal shift under the weight of his hand, almost as though it was already entangled in her hair.

"Check the rest of it," she said, guiding his hands to her back and chest. She could see the water running off the segmented plates as the armor did its job, but she hid a smile as Baatar humored her and ran his hands along her shoulders, feeling along the sculpted breastplate, ending at the small of her back. "Another success?"

"Somewhat," he said slowly. "I'm feeling some leaks... still, it's holding up well; I'm surprised you aren't wet yet."

She looked at him with interest, wondering if he had been deliberate in his word choice. "...not quite yet," she said, and on a sudden impulse she bended the armor off, letting out a little gasp as the icy drops soaked through the parts of her uniform formerly covered by the metal. Baatar had been right about the leaks; glancing down, she could see little lines from where the water had trickled through and settled into the fabric of her uniform. "Do you want to know why I really brought you out here?" she said, her face neutral and her voice sly. He seemed receptive enough.

"Please, do tell me."

Kuvira pressed a button on the portable radio clipped to her belt. "Music, preferably a ballad," she said. "Deploy the speakers as well."

"Yes, commander," the voice crackled through static and rain, and the speakers rose from the roof of the train car above them, a slow, jazzy number amplified to be heard over the showers.

"Oh no," Baatar said, smiling and holding up his hands as he backed away. "This is why you wanted to run the test personally? Kuvira, I'm not dancing-"

"You're not? I thought this is the sort of trite nonsense you'd enjoy. Fine, I'll name a new vice president-"

"You would never."

"-or better yet a new fiancé, everyone says I'm only marrying you for the mech and the money and the family esteem-"

He scowled despite her light tone. "Don't joke about that."

"Then dance with me."

They were soaked to the skin, and wisps of hair stuck to Kuvira's forehead. More than once, she ran a finger over her brows to force out the accumulating water, and when her bun fell apart after a particularly energetic spin she braided the wet hair, apologizing repeatedly to Baatar as he made a number of comical faces, each time the soaked dark waves slapped him across the face. The sky was grey and the rain was cold, but she felt no chill as she guided Baatar through the steps, steadying him when he slipped on the sodden ground and rewarding him with praise when he executed the more complicated steps successfully. "Having fun?" she asked after several minutes, at last abandoning all attempts at a structured dance and instead hooking her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his. "I've missed this," she confessed, enjoying the feel of his hands at her waist and his heartbeat palpable as she pressed against him.

"I've missed you," he said, tightening his hold and closing her eyes as they swayed in place.

"I've been back all week."

"Yes, but we don't get to do this sort of thing often enough," he said, kissing her forehead. "Half the time I go to bed with the Great Uniter, not my fiancée."

His words made each raindrop feel like a prick of guilt, and she pulled him closer. "At least we're indulging in a bit of fun now, like the old days."

"It would be more fun if I could see better," he admitted, "but if you're having fun, that's enough for me."

Kuvira winced. "We can go inside now if you like. I didn't recall you ever having danced in the rain, so I thought it would be practical to do it now, with the test. I'm sorry-"

"Kuvira, don't apologize," he said, swaying with her in time to the music and the rhythmic fall of droplets as thunder rumbled overhead. "I'm always happy to spend time with you, even if it's usually for political affairs." His hand found its way to her hair, his fingers gently untangling the sodden strands and tipping her head back. "And I know how much you value having a systems, civil, mechanical, electrical, and chemical engineer all in the same person."

She closed her eyes as the rain pelted her upturned face. "You do know that I don't just keep you around for the mech or the infrastructure or the armor updates, don't you? You mean much more to me than all of that... I know I don't say it enough, but don't believe the rumors. I keep you around because I couldn't go without."

"Why say what goes without saying? Let them speculate," he said, his voice soft but still audible over the din. The music swelled and he lowered his mouth to hers, the taste of rainwater on his lips.

"You know me too well," she murmured. His hair was wet and disheveled, and she combed it back into place. "Shall we go inside?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Dancing in the rain _does_ seem to have an appeal now."

"You're just saying that," she said as she returned them to hold and took a few steps, her lashes sticking together. "You just want to kiss me again."

"Well, yes," he admitted, "but if you do want to get into something dry I won't stop you, you're soaked through."

Kuvira smiled, tugging him back to the train as the water splashed around them and their boots grew increasingly flecked with mud, bringing the armor along. "You are too."

"Well," he smiled as she slid her hand into his, "then we can dry off together." A private ran for the towels as they neared the entrance, and Baatar held them around her as a screen, allowing her to peel off the uniform and begin drying immediately. "My room, or yours?"

"Yours." She realized with an odd little thrill that soon she would never need to think twice about saying such things in front of the troops anymore, and it gave her a warm rush of feeling.

Stripped of their soaked uniforms and bundled up in warm towels, their hair mussed and damp, Kuvira was reminded of their days in Zaofu after a swim during the summer months. With his hair wet and his glasses off, he looked younger, and she wondered if the fluffy white linen and ruffled hair had the same effect on her own face. They made their way to his quarters, nodding to the occasional general or lieutenant the passed en route. Kuvira was known for her increasingly rare bouts of playfulness, and it was regarded as an endearing personality quirk among her troops when it manifested itself. "Finally," she said, curling up on the chaise lounge, patting the seat next to her and reaching for a chunk of meteorite on the end table. His room always seemed cozier to her, with the whiskey on the desk by the straightedge and grid paper, the warm lighting, and the delightful scent of his cologne that clung to all of the furniture and fabric within reach. "I think that test was successful," she said, idly bending the meteorite into spiraling shapes as the towel slipped from her shoulder. "I'm excited to use the new designs."

"There were still a few bugs, but thank you," he said, joining her.

"Still," she said. "You've done outstanding work."

"I have an outstanding commanding officer," he replied, tugging the ends of her towel towards him and grinning when she collided with his chest. "I can't disappoint."

"I couldn't have chosen better," she said, smiling as he pressed kisses to her hair. In that moment, it couldn't have been clearer that she referred to him not as her partner in office, but as her partner in life.

"I'm obliged, commander."

"Always welcome, vice president."

Baatar frowned. "Don't call me that."

Kuvira raised her eyebrows. "And yet you call me 'commander'? What's wrong?"

"It's just..." He shrugged. "I don't know, it sounds like we're having an improper political affair... I prefer us to be just _us_ when we're alone like this. It certainly doesn't happen often enough, anymore."

"A political affair doesn't have to mean a scandal," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Maybe if you stopped bragging about sleeping with the commander in-chief you wouldn't feel odd about the titles."

He flushed. "I don't _brag_..."

"And yet your entire lab knew before we announced the engagement?" she pointed out, toying with the edge of his towel. "No, if the extent of this _political affair_ publicity is us dancing in the rain during an armor test, I think we're doing well."

He wrapped the towel around her more securely, pulling her onto his lap and sending a little thrill down her spine as he brushed the wet wisps of hair off her neck. "Yes, I'd say we are."

**A/N: Literally for oddania, she knows why. :P Also if any of my readers are nonalcoholic engineers... sorry for stereotyping y'all!**


End file.
